


New Divide

by PrincessAmericaChavez



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Character Death, Fix It Fic, Gen, Kuron Project, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 04, Shatt if you squint, Sheith if you squint, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, also, cloning, fake shiro, shiro comes home, yes every title will be a linkin park reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAmericaChavez/pseuds/PrincessAmericaChavez
Summary: Shiro's arrival back home is not exactly what he had in mind.ORFive times Shiro doubted his own mind and one time he didn't.(will —try to— update every two or three days since I've got the whole story pretty much mapped out in my head)





	1. Iridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Shiro is found by an unexpected face, there's a "who has the weirdest backstory" competition and way too much Protective Big Brother Vibes for a single spaceship.

> _And in the burst of light that blinded every angel_  
>  _As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars  
>  _ _You felt the gravity of temper grace falling into empty space  
>  _ _No one there to catch you in their arms._

 It hits him all at once. Rather than slowly waking up and coming to his senses, Shiro is suddenly aware of  _everything._ He feels the glare of the purple lights, the strain of his arms and legs bound to a metal table, the general dizziness left behind by a sedative. His eyes open wide as the terror of it all hits him. He struggles, helplessly, like a trapped animal but it's useless. His body still aches with the memory of the battle against Zarkon, having taken the full blow of his dark attack. He feels weak and powerless as he tries desperately to free himself. He lights up the Galra arm but all he manages to do is scorch his own leg. Whatever they are holding him with, is stronger than the heat of his weapon. He's trapped. 

He's trapped. Again. Back in their power. Once again Haggar's toy. 

Realization grows stronger and louder in his foggy mind until all he can hear is his own heartbeat and heavy breathing. His movements are still too slow and shaky. 

_This is a nightmare._

It has to be a nightmare. His worst nightmare.

_Wake up. C'mon. Please, wake up._

He doesn't.

He's not sure when he passes out. 

He wakes back up, tries some more. Eventually, his mind and body give up and let him slip back into the darkness. It goes on for so long. Could be hours, or days. Not once does he see a Galra officer in the empty lab room, but he's sure he's being watched, tested, measured and prepared. 

He is  _terrified_ and the darkness keeps pulling him back in, deeper. He's so tired. He thinks he might be hungry and thirsty, but he's gotten too good at ignoring those urges to really  _tell_ how long it has been since he last was fed. In a dark corner of his mind he remembers this from before, the starving before Haggar's visit, weakening him to a point where he had no fight left to give. 

He thinks he won't give them that satisfaction this time around. If he goes down, he does so fighting. 

And yet, he sinks back into the abyss.

* * *

 

When he's pulled back out of his slumber it's by a violent sound that still rings in his ears as he regains consciousness. He catches a glimpse of the door. Looks like it's been blown off, smoke is coming out of the hallway. 

 _Keith,_ he thinks, fighting his own exhaustion to wake up.

No. Not him. Someone else slips into the room, too tall and slender to be him. The smoke obscures his vision and it's only once the person if hovering near him that he sees their face. He knows that face. 

"Pidge?" He grumbles. 

The face in front of him gives him an annoyed look. 

"Seriously? I come all the way here to save your ass only for you to confuse me with someone else?" 

That voice.

"Ma-  _Matt?"_ He arches his eyebrows, tilting his head to keep an eye on him as Matt works on his cuffs. "I- I am dreaming," he sighs heavily. 

Matt gives him another annoyed look. 

"If this was a dream opening this damn things would be a lot easi- ah, there!"

As soon as his limbs were released, Shiro pushed himself to sit up. 

_Idiot._

His vision filled with white lights. He didn't realize he was falling forward until a pair of arms caught him. 

"Easy there, Shirogane! _God_ , you're heavier than I remember."

He grumbles something meant to be an apology. 

"Y- You shouldn't be here," he finally manages to articulate.

"Again. Not the way to thank me," Matt snaps back, pulling him. "C'mon, help me a little here. We gotta move."

His mind still feels slow, he feels like he's moving through honey, it all goes too fast and loud for it to register all at once. Still, as the fog in his brain starts to clear, he's able to realize one useful thing: if he doesn't get moving, he's going to get Matt killed. So he does. He pushes to his feet and, leaning heavily on Matt's shoulder, starts walking. The burns on his right leg flare up with every step, but the pain is grounding. It slowly wakes him up, enough to become aware of Matt's rambling.

"...so this guys train me to be a fighter like them, right? But of course, I told them, I still had to find you and Dad. I looked everywhere. Like, for real, but your name was nowhere in any file. I- I legit thought you were dead. I had no idea what happened after you saved me from that fight, I thought...  And then I saw one of those gladiator matches being streamed and there you were! And they were calling you Champion. So I think- Wait."

Matt's nervous stream of words stops at the same time his feet do. Shiro stops with him and notices the sentries blocking their way. He feels Matt search quickly through his clothes with his free hand and throw something to the robotic soldiers's feet. Two 'beeps' later, they go off. The sentries sparkle and fall to the ground, useless. 

"Could win this whole damn war with EMP's, I swear," Matt sighs, pulling Shiro along. "Where was I? Oh, yeah, so I start looking for the 'Champion' thing and when I almost had it... Poof! You're gone! Like you vanished in thin air. And there are no more records or anything because everyone else is going insane with that Voltron thing on the other side of the galaxy, but I kept my search engine running and then like two weeks ago I pick up chatter from this two guards having found Champion nearly dead in my own quadrant so-"

Galras. Matt lets go of Shiro, pushing him to lean against a wall and gives him one quick pointed look.

"Be right back," he says, with a smile so sharp and bright it mirrors Pidge's wildest moments, before throwing himself at them. 

Panic at seeing his friend —who'd been so utterly terrified of the gladiator pits not so long ago— jumping into a fight against Galra soldiers, wakes Shiro up. Matt swings a metal staff around, hitting soldiers hard enough to make them trip. The point of it seems to deliver an electric shock directly into another's chest. Then, he uses it as a pole for support as he throws a round kick that hits a fourth soldier square in the jaw. 

Shiro is honestly impressed by how far Matt has come. In the back of his mind, he feels a surge of pride for him. And yet, it's not enough. They are too many and Shiro can't just sit around and watch his friend risk his life for him like this. So he pushes to his feet, mentally praying adrenaline will last him long enough to make it out of here, and throws himself at them. 

Kicking the wall for momentum, he jumps in the air and lands on a soldier. He kicks another hard enough to send him flying through the air. Turning his hand on takes more work than usual, and he can immediately feel it drain him once the familiar glow appears. It's worth it. He cuts through the soldier's weapons, rendering them useless and giving Matt the breather he needs to kick their ass with his electric staff. 

When they are done, and Shiro gets a chance to catch his breath, he's annoyed that he  _needs_ to catch his breath. The fight was short, and simpler than most missions he's run with the team, but he's still panting and shaking and he's pretty sure the ship is not meant to be spinning around him. 

"You  _gotta_ let me take a closer look to that hand of yours," Matt says, wistfully, just as Shiro's knees give up under him. He curses as he rushes to his side and helps him back up. 

"You'll have to fight Pidge over it," Shiro smiles as Matt half drags him down the hall. He can see his ship.

"Who is this Pidge you keep taking about."

 _Oh. Right._ Probably not the best time to bring _that_  up. 

"One of the Paladins of Voltron," Shiro says.

"Wait, you're telling me the giant power ranger robot thing is real?" Matt asks, arching an eyebrow.  

Whoever was in the hangar before, Matt seems to have taken care of them. They make it to the ship just before reinforcements arrive.

"Very real," Shiro groans as Matt lays him down on the floor and rushes over to the controls. "I'm the black Paladin."

With his fingers still tapping furiously on the keyboard, Matt sends him a wide eye look. 

"Looks like we've got a lot of catching up to do," he says dryly as the ship comes to life and finally speeds away into outer space.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand there's the first part. 
> 
>  
> 
> I've never written for this fandom properly before so any comments would be greatly appreciated! See you soon!


	2. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where old teammates catch up, and old teammates catch up.

 

> _I've become so numb, I can't feel you there_  
>  _Become so tired, so much more aware_  
>  _By becoming this all I want to do_  
>  _Is be more like me and be less like you_

He's so tired. 

Matt's ship is comfortable, if not spacey, small enough for a single pilot to handle. Once they are out of Galra reach, he helps Shiro up from the spot where he'd last collapsed and takes him to a second chair nearby. Without a word, he gives him a flask of water and a can of food Shiro doesn't recognize. Like everything else out here, the taste is strange,  _off,_ as if made for alien tastebuds (or someone entirely without them). It reminds him of the food they ate on their way to Kerberos. As weird as the taste is, Shiro is starving. He tries to pace himself, but once he starts a primal instinct takes over and he starts eating fast enough to upset his stomach. He keeps eating. 

The silence is filled by Matt. Shiro thinks that's what usually happened, too, in their first trip, but he can't quite remember it right now. This time Matt's words are less rushed as he retells the story he'd rambled earlier. Too tired to really pay attention, Shiro understands the basics: saved by rebels, trained by them, been searching for him. He'd been searching for him. Something inside his chest warms at the idea. It's a  _weird_ idea. For all he is able to remember from his time with the Galra, he can tell he never expected anyone to come looking for him. He remembers distinctly the sharp awareness that he was alone, left to his own devices to survive or escape. To know he  _wasn't,_ that maybe eventually someone would have come for him, sends a shiver up his spine.

"Thank you, Matt," he says, and he's not sure if his own voice quite conveys what he means. 

"You saved my life that day," his friend shrugs, meeting his eyes.

"Then, I guess we're even," Shiro smiles. 

Matt's face sours. His green eyes divert to Shiro's arm as his lips turn into a thin line. "I wouldn't be so sure," he whispers.

"This was the Galra's fault, Matt. Not yours."

Instinctively, he flexes his own fingers slowly, as if to remind himself of the control he has over their weapon. 

"If you hadn't saved me that day-"

"That was never a choice," Shiro tells him, firmly. "I would do it again, Matt. Every single time. No matter how bad the arena got, not once did I regret it."

Maybe once. Or twice. Or many nights, that he was hunted by the utter horror in Matt's eyes when he  _believed_ he was going to hurt him. When he remembered that he  _had_ hurt him, even if it was for his own good. Matt doesn't need to know any of that. 

"I think it's your turn to talk," Matt says, lightness in his tone a little too forced.

Shiro closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted again. He takes in a deep breath and starts talking. He tells Matt about his escape, his tense return to the Garrison, his second escape orquestrated by this kids who should have all been safely in their beds that night. He tells him about finding the lions and finding Allura. When he gets to Voltron he can see something sparkle in the other boy's eyes: hope. The same kind of unwavering faith he'd seen in everyone else in the galaxy when they heard of Voltron. 

"So you're telling me you've been leading a bunch of teenagers against the Galra empire for  _months_?" He asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Shiro nods slowly and Matt lets out a chuckle that doesn't sound entirely sane.

"Typical of you, Shirogane. Here I am, thinking you're dead, and you go and become a damn hero. I shouldn't even be surprised that you're some kind of space messiah, Golden Boy."

The teasing makes him smile again. It's far more comforting than he expected, being treated like an equal, a friend, rather than a warrior or a leader. He usually got this kind of thing from Keith, but things have been so dark lately that even their old humor seems to have vanished. He's thankful that Matt has kept his.

"So that thing we picked up is your knight armor?" 

"Palading. Wait. What thing?"

Matt points to the bag that'd been flung across his back during their escape. Shiro had barely noticed.

"They had your things stacked up in the same room as you. Picked them up on our way out," Matt shrugs.

Shiro gets up and bends over to carefully inspect it. It's there. It's all there.

Something inside his heart flutters with relief. He hadn't even  _thought_ about it, but suddenly he realizes a part of him was missing. He puts the helmet on.

"Hello? Hello?! Can anyone read me?!"

Static. Of course.

"You look ridiculous," Matt deadpans. 

Shiro sighs heavily, taking the helmet off. "It was worth the try."

"So, who are this kids, anyway? I mean, Keith I know. He was like your shadow at the Garrison. And I think I remember that Lance guy, too. He was loud," Matt says, making a face of distaste. 

"Hunk is Lance's friend. Big guy, very nice. He was the engineer in their team."

"And that Pidge guy?"

Shiro's face betrays him for a second, almost like a flinch.  _Here it comes._

"What?"

"Well... Pidge..."

As quickly as he can, he blurts out the fact that Matt's little sister hacked the Garrison trying to find him, then got herself banned and postured as a boy to get in and keep searching, eventually winding up a defender of the universe by pure accident. 

Matt takes it as good as Shiro expected him to.

"You've been leading my  _little sister_ into battle against the Galra?! What the hell, Shiro?! She's fourteen! You can't just bring her into a war like that! That's- That's- That's gotta be illegal or something! That's wrong!"

"I know!" Shiro yells back. Once. Twice. More times than he can count even as Matt keeps yelling. "I know that! But none of us were really given a choice! We were chosen. It's not like..."

"This is a war, Shiro!"

"None of us asked for this!" Shiro's voice is suddenly stronger, the kind of tone he would use with his team. Miraculously, it works. Matt shuts up, if only for a second. Shiro suspects it's only because he got startled, he doubts the trick will work more than once. He uses it while he can. "But we are here, it happened. There's nothing we can do to change that. And you know your sister, Matt. I doubt I could've talked her out of it even if I'd tried," he says, softening his voice.

"Did you?"

"What?"

"Try to stop her."

"No."

They measure each other with the eyes, suddenly tense. It lasts for a second that feels eternal. Finally, Matt's shoulders deflate.

"I just hoped... I wanted to think Mom and Katie were safe back home," he whispers, letting himself fall back on his chair. 

"I know. Believe me, me too," Shiro whispers.

"Well, when we find Dad, you are the one telling him about all of this," Matt says, sending him a look. He's not joking, but  _almost,_ and it's enough to make Shiro relax. "Once we get to Central Command, I'll go get Katie and-"

"No. Matt, there's no time for that. I  _need_ to get back to Voltron."

"You crazy? There's no way we'll find them on our own out here."

"We  _have_ to. I need to get back to my team."

"But-"

"Listen, last time I saw them we had barely managed to defeat Zarkon."

"Wait. You  _what?"_

"We fought him. We won. I... I  _think_ we won," Shiro frowns. "Right at the end something happened. I don't know what, but I ended up stranded here. I need to find them, make sure they are alright."

Matt frowns, deep in thought, then opens three windows in his frontal panel. "Alright, so any idea how we're gonna do this?"

"We?" Shiro asks, tentatively. He wasn't planning on doing this without Matt (Pidge would kill him), but he wants to make sure.

"Hey, if my little sister crossed the galaxy trying to find me, the least I can do as an older brother is do the same in order to yell at her."

* * *

 

Three days of nothing. A big stinking pile of nothing. The ship is starting to feel a little two crowded for the two of them, the food is starting to run low (even if they try to ration it, Matt all but forces Shiro to eat full portions). By the end of the fourth day, Shiro is starting to lose hope, making up plans in his mind about how to get back somewhere they can safely refuel and come up with another strategy. That's when Matt screams.

"What?!" Shiro asks, stumbling into the bridge. "What did you do to my helmet?!"

"Connected it to my ship, and  _damn._ I mean, still can't get a single freaking message out, but whatever this thing is it pumped up our communications. A lot."

Shiro walks closer, leaning over the chair Matt is using. He tries not to look at his head gear, half disassembled over the desktop. He hopes Coran can put it back together.

"And? Did you find anything."

Matt side eyed him with a wicked Holt smirk. "Who do you think you're talking to? They are close. Like, really close. Apparently there was a Voltron sighting by the Va'Kar quadrant. I can get us there. Soon."

"Voltron," Shiro replies quietly. "They made it."

Keith made it. He knew, of course. He knew pragmatically, since Keith had already piloted Black once, and he'd known in his gut for even longer that Keith could rise to the leader position. And yet, he has to admit he'd been worried that he'd put too much pressure on him when he was already struggling to deal with a war. As he laid in that lab, trapped, half-convinced that he would soon be dead, more than once he'd asked himself if he had put more unwanted responsibility on his best friend's shoulders. 

_He did it._

His chest feels like it's about to burst with pride.

* * *

 

"Woah," Matt whispers as they catch sight of the Castle of Lions. 

Shiro has to agree. It's a sight to sore eyes. He's  _home._

Matt hails them as soon as they are close enough. "We don't want to startle this guys and have them shooting at us."

"Who is this?" Allura asks, voice tense and commanding. Shiro can see Matt's shoulders tense but he smiles.

"Hey, this is Shiro. It would be great if you didn't blow us up. Got precious Holt cargo in here."

"Who are you calling cargo?!" Matt whispers, annoyed.

"You... what?"

"Yeah, found him. Sorry if it took a while to get back," Shiro says, still feeling better than he has in weeks.

The screens come to life as Allura accepts their video feed. He finds all the paladins standing there at the bridge. They must have caught them during down time, since they are wearing their casual clothes. 

"Matt!" Pidge screams, running closer to the screen.

"Katie!"

Distracted by the Holt's almost-reunion, it takes a moment for Shiro to realize no one else is paying attention. All eyes are set on him.

"Sh-  _Shiro_?" Keith asks, quietly. He looks frozen in place and Shiro's chest aches, knowing what he must have put him through disappearing all over again. 

"Hey, everyone," he says, softly, feeling himself blush. "I... hum... I'm back!" He can hear the giddiness in his own voice, even as he tries to keep his emotions from crawling over his face.

No one else reacts. 

"It cannot be," he hears Allura whisper. There's a level of dread in her voice that makes his stomach plummet to the floor. He frowns. He's about to ask what's wrong when all the eyes divert to the right side of the screen. Slowly, someone walks into their range of vision. 

Shiro.

"What the-" Matt whispers, looking back at Shiro who isn't looking at him. 

He feels his body go cold. Every warm feeling he'd been enjoying the past few minutes is violently taken over by pure horror. While his body feels every bit of terror and confusion, his head can barely start to process what he's seeing. 

The past few months, Shiro has learnt to get used to mirrors. He hated them at first. God, he  _hated_ them. Looking at his own reflection and finding a stranger staring at him was unnerving. The scar, the hair, even the bags under his eyes belonged to another person. And yet, slowly, the stranger in the mirror had become a familiar face. It wasn't quite himself —not how he felt in the inside— but he'd learnt to recognize himself in it, just enough to know he wasn't completely  _gone._

This was a little like that, but entirely different. In that stranger's face, Shiro didn't see himself. It wasn't him. 

Someone was yelling his name. It took him a moment to realize that everyone had started yelling. He focuses back on the screen and sees that chaos has taken over the bridge. Only Keith hasn't moved. 

"We... we'll need a moment to decide how to proceed," Coran says quickly before turning off the screens. 

"What the hell was that? Is that a clone? Are  _you_ a clone?" Matt asks, looking at Shiro as if he was going to grow a second head any second.

"I'm not a clone!" Shiro suddenly yells, clenching his fists. "I'm not!"

Oh god. Is he?

No. He's real.

He  _has_ to be.

What if he isn't? He doesn't know how he ended up in the hands of the Galra. He only remembers the last moments of their fight. What if he never left? What if this memories were only implanted in his head? What if everything he knows to be truth is false.

"Shiro, breathe!" Matt says, rushing to his side. Bent over, he can barely hear him. He can't breathe. "Shiro, c'mon. Shiro!"

His name. Matt keeps repeating his name and he clings to it, like a lifeboat in the middle of an ocean of existential horrors. 

"I'm real. I  _can't_ be. I'm-"

"It's alright. You're here," Matt says, shakily. He helps Shiro sit down, back in the spot where he'd collapsed at the beginning of their journey. 

He grabs one of his shaking hands, the metal one. He doesn't seem to care. 

Once Shiro's breath slows down, Matt let's out a huff and sits down by his side. Thankfully, he doesn't ask if Shiro is okay. He lets the silence expand across the ship for a few minutes.

"What do you think they are doing in there?" He finally asks.

"Deciding if they should attack us or not," Shiro replies, slowly.

"Hum, what?"

"They have to decide whether this is a trap, or not. If they think they have the right Shiro... they could think I'm a spy. Or Haggars trick."

God, what if he  _is?"_

"Are you saying they're gonna attack us? With that giant freaking castle-ship?"

"They are not going to fire on us," Shiro says, matter of factly, his eyes still lost somewhere in the wall across from him. "Hunk and Lance might be freaking out out, and I know Allura can be a bit of an 'ask questions later' kinda person, but you're here and Pidge won't let them do anything until she knows you're safe."

"And what about you?" Matt asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Shiro doesn't answer. 

He wants to think they wouldn't condemn him without giving him a chance, but a chance to  _what?_ Prove he's real? He has no idea how to do that. It's bad enough that his memories of his time with the Galra are hazy and treacherous. Now, on top of it, he has to face fact that he doesn't actually  _know_ what the Galra did to him. Did they clone him? Did they brainwash him? Is he a clone? A fake?

Then, a second, more horrifying thought crosses his mind: what if real clone, the dangerous Haggar creation, is the one standing in there with his friends right now?

 


	3. Sorry For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a lot of questions about Shiro —including Shiro, himself.

> _After a while you may forget_  
>  _But just in case the memories cross your mind_  
>  _You couldn't know this when I left_  
>  _Under the fire of your angry eyes_  
>  _I never wanted to say goodbye_
> 
> _So I'll be sorry for now_  
>  _That I couldn't be around_  
>  _Sometimes things refuse to go the way we planned_

It's not what he expected, but then again, what ever is?

Shiro and Matt walk out of their ship side by side. He notices several things at once: the other Shiro is not here, everyone else is, they are all wearing armor and the lions are nowhere around. He thinks it's a smart move, just in case he does happen to be a Galra spy. Tension in the air is charged, electric, feels like it all could blow up any second. The deep silence is broken by Pidge's footsteps as she dashes towards her brother without a second of doubt. 

As the two Holts collide, Shiro steps aside, giving them room, trying to keep them away from the rest of the venom in the room. He does watch, though, feeling his limbs relax and his chest warm. He knows how much they have suffered, how much they have needed each other, how far they have gone to get here. They deserve that moment and he'll make damn sure they get it. Shiro, on the other hand, doesn't really get that sort of happy reunion, as much as something inside his gut  _craves it._

It's not like he expected a parade. He never did. Even as he left for Kerberos, though, he did picture what his return would look like. He used to daydream about a small party, family and friends, his superior officers at the Garrison happy and proud of the team and their accomplishments, a drink in hand, maybe a piece of cake. He used to picture Keith's smile, warm and at ease, unlike how pained he'd looked when they said their goodbyes. Then the Galra. He'd still pictured a happy return to home, maybe after he'd convinced them about the threat, once it was all figured out and he got a chance to rest, enjoy being  _home._ Instead, he got more shackles and distrust. Even if he knew, he could  _understand_ their reaction, it doesn't hurt any less. And now, this. Again. 

Someone approaches him. Keith. He's not wearing a warm smile, instead he's holding a pair of shackles. 

"Please," he says, dryly. He's not actually asking. 

Shiro doesn't want to make things worse. He knows this is the most peaceful way this could go. So he holds out his hands and forces himself not to flinch as the metal closes around his wrists. He flexes his fingers, focuses on his own breathing, willing himself not to disconnect. Going inside his own mind right now would not be good. 

Only once he's bound does Keith look up to meet his eyes. Shiro recognizes a storm of emotions in his face, he knows none of this can be easy for him, how much it must hurt. Keith must know one of them is the fake, that one is hopefully the real one. He's aware that his arrival must have turned his world upside down yet again. 

"The other one is already locked in a room," Keith says, voice a little too quiet. "You'll both be... until we figure this out."

Shiro nods. 

The Holts are still busy with their reunion, their voices are all that can be heard in the room. Allura is the one that comes to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He feels the tightness of her grip, not enough to hurt but enough to be a warning. 

"I will take you to your room," she says, voice carefully even. Shiro knows they are all making an effort not to call it a cell, even if that's what it is. He sends one last glance over his shoulder, to the Holts, to Keith, to Lance and Hunk and Coran who didn't even say a word, then lets Allura guide him through the hallways. 

As they walk, he takes in Allura from the corner of his eyes. She looks older than he remembers. He knows that's not possible, he wasn't gone that long —was he?—, but there seems to be so much weighing her down. He wishes he could help somehow. Even more evident, though, is the fact that she is wearing a paladin armor. 

"Pink?" He asks, when the silence becomes too heavy. 

"It is the color we use to mourn fallen warriors," she says, voice still flat, impersonal. Shiro supposes it's just natural, but it feels like a slap, either way. 

"Your father," he assumes, softly. 

"And yo- Shiro. Shiro, too," she says, catching herself quickly. 

_ Oh. _

"I'm honored," he says. He's not sure how to feel about it, in all honesty. Did they just assume he was dead?

They stop before a door he doesn't recognize. It opens and reveals a bedroom, small and empty, not his. Impersonal and cold, meant for a prisoner, for an enemy, for a possible clone. His shoulders sag.

Once he's inside, Allura's grip around his arm disappears. Quickly, her hand clicks a button on the shackles and lets him free. They fall to the ground with a loud metallic sound. Shiro looks up at her, eyes wide in surprise. Immediately, some of the ache in his chest eases. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, honestly. 

"This is only temporary," she says, almost sounding reassuring. "Whatever is going on, we  _will_ figure it out," she adds, and this time it sounds like a veiled threat.

"I'm counting on it," Shiro nods. 

"Allura," he calls after her when she's about to close the door behind her. He realizes his voice is a little harder than he intended, much like he uses when he's in command. She turns to give him a look, eyebrows arched and shoulders tense, ready for a battle. "The hand," he says, softening his voice. "It can cut through metal. You may wanna reinforce it. Just in case."

Just in case I'm not me. Just in case I'm dangerous. Just in case I try to hurt someone. Just in case... don't let me. 

"It has been taken care of," she nods once, eyes softer. 

With a swift metallic noise, the door closes. Shiro can see the quick shine of a small particle barrier covering the room. 

_ Good, _  he thinks, bitterly,  _he's trapped._

 

* * *

 

 Shiro is uneasy. The room is too small, too empty and he's all too aware of the fact that he is a prisoner once more. Even worse, he's prisoner in the one place where he could finally feel _home_. Now it's just another prison.

He knows, objectively, that's not true. It's not the Castle that's different, it's him —whether by a change of the situation or a change in himself, he is not sure. More importantly, he'd make this choice himself in a heartbeat, if it meant keeping the others safe. He's not going to go around being a liability. And yet... it weights on him. 

It doesn't help having so much free time by himself. The more he lets himself think about it, the worse it gets. He thinks about his already fragmented memories, about how little he remembers after the Zarkon fight, about the piece of himself the Galra took away and the weapon they attached to his body permanently. Most of all, he thinks about Haggar. As much as he tries not to, he keeps seeing her standing in front of him with a sharp smile on her face and that yellow glow in her eyes, calling him Champion, calling him a weapon. "Our greatest weapon." What if he is already and never knew? What if he's no longer himself? What if he never was?

When the door of the room opens, Shiro is thankfully startled out of his thoughts. It still takes him a little too long to get himself back, away from Haggar's lab and into the room he's currently sitting at. He finally blinks up at the newcomer. 

"Hunk."

The younger boy is standing by the door, wearing his yellow armor. Next to him, a tray of food floats, filling the room with new smells Shiro doesn't quite recognize. 

"Hey," Hunk says, fidgeting with his fingers. "Uh, I thought you would need food. Also, Matt mentioned that you were kinda starved when he found you, which really what are the odds that both Shiros-" 

He cuts himself off suddenly and sends him an almost apologetic look. Shiro arches an eyebrow, curious, but Hunk practically pushes the tray up on his lap instead of answering an unspoken question. He can see Hunk is so nervous that, if he pushed, he could get the information he nearly blurted out. Shiro doesn't want to push, though. Nerves are tense enough as it is.

"Thanks, Hunk," he sighs softly. "Matt shouldn't have mentioned it, really. I'm fine."

"You really don't look it," Hunk replies, brow furrowed. 

"Thanks," he snorts, sarcastically. "It's not the first time I go a while without food. I've learnt to get by."

"You mean..."

"The Galra didn't really bother about proper nutrition for the Gladiators," Shiro shrugs. 

"So you do remember that," something different dawns on Hunk's face, more serious, less fidgety.

"Yeah. As much as I did before, anyway, which isn't really  _that_ much," he mumbles, frustrated. "I did forget to eat sometimes at the Garrison, though. Before finals or big projects, it used to drive Keith insane."

In retrospective, not having properly eaten when he  _could_ seems stupid and careless, but he couldn't have known back then how different things would turn out. 

"He's one to talk," Hunk laughs softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll remind him that next time he's being difficult."

That makes Shiro frown. Hunk catches himself quickly and waves his hands, as if caught red handed.

"It's nothing serious. He's just... He kinda lost his appetite a while back, but he's been doing better now, ever since we found... well... the other..."

Shiro looks down at his tray, trying to contain the storm of emotions inside his chest. He's not exactly sure how he feels. Worried about Keith, guilty that his absence cause this, relieved that at least  _someone_ fixed it, angry that he was pushed out of his own life like this.

He nearly forgets about Hunk until the other boy clears his throat. Looking back up, Shiro finds him still standing there, looking as nervous as he did when walking in, maybe more. 

"So....." Hunk drawls, fidgeting with his gloves, "I'm kinda, uh, I'm supposed to make you a question or something, like to test your memory. Is that okay?"

He arches his eyebrows, surprised that he's being given a  _choice,_ but Hunk is serious about it and he feels a wave of thankfulness take over him. He nods.

"Okay, so I really thought about this, because I didn't want to make it too obvious or too hard because I know Shiro was already having memory issues but also you both seem to remember the same stuff so far so well here it goes: You remember when you mentioned Ulaz the first time? And we were trying to figure out if it was a trap? Pidge and I were discussing a possibility..."

"That they had implanted false memories in me," Shiro says, feeling his stomach drop and twist with uneasiness. God, that could be it. He knew it. He'd known it for a while. "You... You said if they found a way to my brain... through my arm... then they could..."

He feels nauseous. He puts the tray on the bed, hoping his slight shaking won't be too evident, and looks at his own arm with renewed hatred. Zendak had called him a monster. What if he was right? What if Haggar succeeded?

"That's good," Hunk sighs, sounding a lot calmer than Shiro expected. He looks up and, indeed, finds the younger paladin smiling down at him. "I thought... Well, if you  _were_ a clone or something, maybe you'd have some mental block that wouldn't let you realize it, so maybe that particular memory would be harder."

_Oh._

"That was... really smart, Hunk," Shiro says. A proud smile breaks brightly across the other's face, he seems to  _grow_ a couple inches, up to his full heigh instead of the hunched over position he'd been wearing so far.

"Thanks!" He beams. "Now, you really should eat. I'm serious."

Hunk gives him his best stern look, which isn't all that much intimidating. Still, Shiro nods. Right now, he's not really interested on eating, he doesn't think he  _can,_ but eventually he should. At least if it will reassure the others and give them one less thing to worry about.

"Alright," Hunk sighs. "I'll let you to it."

"Thanks," Shiro says, his voice a little too quiet before the other boy leaves. He thinks, maybe in another life, Hunk would have stayed around to make sure he ate, talking and joking, maybe he would have dared to come closer than a few feet away from him. Not now, though. 

He looks at the tray of food and purses his lips. He's really not hungry.

* * *

 

It's like the night has two parts.

During the first one, he sleeps too deeply to dream, exhausted and drained after a painful day. For a couple hours, he actually manages to rest.

Then, come the nightmares. He sees himself, just like he did in Zarkon's ship while fighting Haggar, standing in the bridge of the Castle of Lions. His eyes are not his, they shine yellow and empty, and his smile is sharp in a way he's never seen it in the mirror. A stranger, once more, but a familiar one. He can see no bodies, but he knows —in that way a dreamer knows— everyone is dead. His hands are covered in blood, white hair stained a shade of dirty red, as it was so many times after the Gladiator matches. The bridge is empty, but around him he can hear a roaring crowd, chanting "Champion! Champion! Champion!".

"What have you done?" He asks, and despite the anger bubbling inside his chest, he can feel his own voice waver with pain.

"Me?" The other replies, tilting his head with fake amusement. "What have _we_ done?"

He looks down. His hands are dripping bloody.

He wakes up with a scream, brings his two hands up instinctively, trying to cover his mouth and muffle the sound. Then, he pushes them away and stares, fully expecting to find blood stains on them. His fingers are clean, but his mind is not. He curls himself up until his head is tucked between his legs. He's shaking, but with no one around he has no need to pretend strength. He almost wishes someone was here, to force him to be alright for them, to make him snap back into that armored exterior he wears as a second skin. There's no one here, though, and when a sob escapes his lips he can't find in himself the strength to stop it.

* * *

Someone knocks on his door when it's still early. He's lost count of the push-ups anyway, to focused on the pain of his arms in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

"Come in," he says, standing up.

He goes back to the closet to grab a shirt, and only when he turns around does he notice Lance standing there. He looks like he just woke up, even though he's wearing his paladin armor already. His hair is disheveled and in his hands he's holding two cups of coffee. Lance has never been a morning person, especially not an unglodly-hours-of-the-morning kinda person. Yet here he is.

What Shiro notices first, though, is the fact that Lance is  _staring_ at him. More accurately: he's staring at his chest. Even though he's never been bodily shy, Shiro feels a sudden heat on his cheeks. This is a lot more skin that he usually bares around anyway, at least since the Galra- 

_Oh._

One look down to his own body confirms his suspicion. His body, while still strong and fit, is covered in old scars and burns. He knew that already, of course, but he's trained himself to ignore it when he can and hide it when he doesn't. 

Quickly, he puts his long sleeved shirt back on. 

"Hey, Lance," he mumbles, trying to shake the tension off. It works. The other boy shakes his head, as if waking up, and takes another step inside the room, allowing the door to close behind him. 

"Hey, man," he says, with a smile that tries to be a little too easy. "Figured you'd be up early."

Without a word, he offers Shiro a cup of space coffee. Shiro is not entirely sure if the drink actually has caffeine, or if it's simply the familiar taste that wakes them up, but he's still thank ful for the hot beverage. 

"Hunk's not gonna be happy when he finds out you barely ate last night," Lance says, glancing at the barely touched plate laying on the desk. "At least you drank the water, that's something."

"Making sure I stay hydrated, uh?" Shiro smiles softly. "Good to see you're loyal to your element."

Something about the joke doesn't work as planned. Instead of smiling or bragging, Lance's face falls a little.

"What?" Shiro asks, tentatively. 

"Nothing, it's just... I'm not flying Blue anymore."

"What?!" He repeats, this time with his eyebrows arched so much they almost disappear behind his bangs.

"Well, you were gone and we had to figure out a ton of stuff," Lance says quickly, defensively. "So now I'm flying red."

Something about that last sentence sounds defeated. Lance isn't meeting his eyes and something inside Shiro aches at the realization of how deeply he screwed them up by disappearing this time.

"And how do you feel about it?" He tries to ask, though he hates sounding like some sort of therapist. He went to one of those, a life time ago, and was never fond of the condescending tone.

Lance glances up, though, looking taken by surprise by the question.

"Oh, you know, it's awesome. Red is very fast and strong, but of course Keith had a stronger bond with her. I mean, not that I'm complaining, but Blue and I kinda shared a link. Or I thought we did. Blue is doing great with Allura now, though, she's great at it, and I'm alright with Red, so that's good. I think..."

The rambling dies down, and Shiro can't help the feeling that he just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to. A vulnerability. A confession too long buried inside his chest.

"You know, Keith had a lot more time to bond with Red," he offers. "I'm sure you will get there sooner than you think."

"Yeah, maybe," Lance shrugs, looking away. He doesn't look entirely convinced and Shiro is afraid of having lit doubts in him. He tries to think of something more to say, but before he can Lance dodges and launches himself into a long winded explanation about everything they have been up to the past months. He talks non-stop, barely stoping to catch his breath.

As Shiro sits down and listens, sipping his drink, he feels a twist of guilt in his stomach. If he's not himself, not who he thinks he is, then all this information could be a danger for the team. He should not know all this. He tries to bring it up once, but Lance waves it off.

"The other one knows this already," Lance says, "so it seems fair to even out the field. Besides, you have a right to know what's been going on. We are your team, no matter what."

No matter if you're an evil clone, a monster created by Haggar, a spy, a fake, a liar. Something about Lance's words just doesn't fit with everything else Shiro knows about the world, about how it should work, about how he thinks it should. And yet, he can't help the warm that spreads across his chest.

"Don't you need to ask me a question?" He asks curiously, before Lance leaves the room.

Lance pauses and arches an eyebrow. When he shrugs, he smiles, soft and devoted of his usual cockiness. "Nah, I'm good. I got what I needed."

Shiro is not sure what that is, he'd feel more comfortable having some sort of test to pass or fail, but he lets it go for the sake of it. He doesn't get to choose how they figure this out. Not this time.

* * *

By the time Shiro gets his next visit, he's almost expecting it. And yet, as usual, his team continues to surprise him. Pidge shows up wearing her civilian clothes and a shy smile. His first reaction is to frown and cross his arms, tightly enough to hold himself in case his own body betrays him.

"You should be wearing your armor," he says, dryly.

"Do I _need_ it?" Pidge asks, arching an eyebrow. She doesn't look scared, just curious. 

"We don't know. That's the point."

"Shiro, are you going to hurt me?" Pidge asks, and she seems to be repeating the same question with new words.

"I don't want to, but we can't be sure..."

"Then, I'll take my chances," she shrugs, nonchalantly, walking a few steps closer to him. 

Shiro steps backwards, away from her. Pidge freezes.

"Shiro," she says, slowly. "It's okay."

 _It's not._ It's not okay, because Pidge is here and she's vulnerable and the idea of hurting her makes his stomach twist like a furious beast. He has to force himself to remain somewhat composed. If he freaks out it won't help any of them, it might even make things worse, make them worry, let their guards down. 

"We are not sure who —or  _what—_ I am, yet, Pidge. You shouldn't-"

"I don't care!" Pidge burst out, clenching her fists by her side. The fire in her voice makes him pause. "I don't care what the others think! Or what you think! You're Shiro."

"I might not be," he insists.

"I don't care! You are not evil! You brought my brother back to me!"

_Oh._

Shiro feels the knot in his chest soften, slightly. 

"Of course I did," he says, letting his arms drop to his sides. "I promised."

Pidge looks up at him, like she always did, like she did the day he made that promise. He's not sure how to react to it, to all the feelings he sees boiling in her eyes. It scares him.

"Pidge, it doesn't mean I'm not dangerous... we are not sure yet... we have to be careful..."

 "You're not evil," she repeats. "Whatever Haggar did to you, or to the other one, it's not your fault. Neither of you."

"But we could still be-"

"Then we'll fix it! Like we do everything else! We figure it out, we're not gonna, like, hurt you for it."

"I'm more worried about hurting you," Shiro sighs.

Pidge walks closer. Shiro fights back the urge to back away again. Slowly, making her movements clear, she reaches out to touch his arm. His Galra arm. He can't feel the warmth or the softness of his skin, but the metal registers the soft pressure of her fingers when they squeeze his arm gently. 

"You won't," she promises. 

Fighting back his emotions turns into a struggle when a lump settles in his throat, making his eyes burn. He focuses on his breathing, trying to keep his face from crumbling at such a small and meaningful proof of affection. 

"Thank you, Katie," he finally manages out. 

Pidge huffs a laugh, letting go of him. "Matt keeps calling me that too. I think the others are wondering if they should start calling me Katie too. It's weird."

"What do you  _want_ to be called?" Shiro asks, unmeasurably grateful for the change of subject she provided.

"I don't know yet," Pidge shrugs. "They both feel like me, but like different people too. Does that make sense?"

"More than you know," he smiles back with a nod. He thinks back of the stranger that faces him in the mirror every day, how it's him, but not the Takashi who left Earth long ago. How it might not even _be_ him at all.

"Alright," Pidge sighs, sounding satisfied. "I have some things I have to work on, but I'll be back later. You should rest, or something."

"If I rest anymore I think I'll go insane," Shiro laughs, "but thanks, Pidge."

"Any time," she smiles.

When she leaves he feels a little more like himself than he has for a good while.

* * *

 "How are you holding up, Number One?" Coran asks when he comes in.

Dully, Shiro notes that he has not been demoted to a different number. He wonders if that means something. Is the other one still Number One too? Or does he get to be Shiro? Are there two Number Ones? What will he be if he doesn't prove himself?

"I've been better," he says, sitting up. Laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all the ways he could be a weapon used against his friends is certainly not a mood-lifter. "I've been much worse too, though, so this isn't so bad," he adds with a small smile. Humor, even if it's dark, feels easier to face. 

Coran doesn't laugh. Instead, his brows rise and his mouth twists in a sad angle.

"I'm sure you have, Number One. I'm sorry that we have to take all this precautions."

"Don't be," Shiro says, grabbing his Galra arm with his natural hand. "I'd tell you to do the same."

"I know."

"So, are you here to ask me a question too?"

"In a way," Coran says, perking up and twisting the tip of his mustache between his fingers. "I have spent the past couple days thinking deeply about our little predicament here and trying to figure out a question that would not be too easy for either of you to get, even if you were a clone or some other kind of Galra-created creature."

Shiro stomach drops. A test. He's being put to some kind of test, and knowing Coran the answer will not be simple. If anything, it might be one of the man's extensively long and complicated stories, with names and words he couldn't recall for the life of his. God, he is going to screw up. He feels his stomach back flip with the familiar unease with which he faced a test he hadn't studied for at the Garrison. 

"Stand up, Number One."

Shiro does, immediately standing to attention, as if facing a superior officer at the Garrison. He waits for instructions from Coran. Instead, the older man pulls out a small machine that lightly resembles a gun. Every muscle in Shiro's body tenses, fighting the urge to move away. Is this the test? Is this just Coran defending the others? Has he figured out how dangerous Shiro actually is to them all?

Every inch in his body tells him to fight back, to  _survive,_ to disarm the man and make a run for it while he can. His mind, on the other hand, makes him stay very still. Either this is a loyalty test, or a way to make everyone safer, either way it's necessary. The machine beeps, he holds his breath. 

"Alright, that should be enough," Coran smiles. "We should have a full biometric scan in a few hours."

"A... full... what?"

"I figured asking you questions would be unfair," the man shrugs. "We all know your mind hasn't always been reliable when it comes to your past. I see no reason that should be any better now. We will be more likely to get an answer from you two's bodies."

"I see," Shiro nods, trying to keep relief away from his voice. "That makes sense."

"Of course it does!" Coran jumps, perkily, as if they weren't deciding his future and everything he is right now. "Now, I'll go run this by the Castle's computer. And  _you_ should get some rest, if what Number Five's brother told us is true."

"Matt really shouldn't be telling you all that," Shiro grumbles. 

"Now, now, Number One. They are all just trying to look after you two. Rest assured, whatever is up here, we will figure it out soon!"

Unlike Allura's words, this time it doesn't sound like a threat, but Shiro is not entirely sure that it doesn't mean the same thing. Still, he nods and thanks Coran before being left alone again with his shaky hands and a heart rate that hasn't quite calmed down yet.

* * *

 Barely a day has gone by and Shiro is going insane trapped inside the room without much to do. He tries to nap, but his mind is too busy running a million possible scenarios. He works out more and tries to think only of the way his muscles ache with every repetition, but even then it's not enough to distract him. If only he could go to the training room or something, maybe he could work off some of the steam in his brain. 

He's actually thankful when the door opens again, providing some much needed distraction.

"Food," Matt announces, pulling a floating tray after him.

"Don't you knock?" Shiro huffs, finishing his last crunch.

"When have I ever?" The other boy replies with a grin, approaching him.

Shiro doesn't even bother standing up. Instead, he shuffles until his back is resting against his bed. Matt hands him the tray, he grabs it and puts it on the floor next to him. 

"You need to eat," Matt points out.

"Maybe later. I'm not really hungry."

"I know what you're doing," Matt says, leveling him down with a glare. "You think if you make yourself weaker, you won't be a risk to the others if something goes wrong."

Shiro opens his mouth to reply, then closes it. He really doesn't know how to answer that. His brain is not providing any useful excuse, too busy trying to figure out how Matt could have known that. He shouldn't be surprised. Matt has known him longer than anyone in the Castle, even Keith, and then they spent months together on their way to Kerberos. If someone has Shiro figured out, it must be him. And yet, he's not used to being called out like this.

"Better safe than sorry," is what he finally manages to say.

"Your plan sucks, by the way," Matt adds, sitting down next to him, "because if the other one turns out to be a problem, the others are gonna need you to be strong and alive, not starving yourself." 

Shiro doesn't reply. With a sigh, Matt sits down by his side, closer than anyone else has gotten so far. He keeps his eyes locked on the same wall as Shiro's. 

"Do you remember the day we got picked for the mission?" He finally asks.

"Yeah, you were so excited you wouldn't stop talking," Shiro says, smiling at the memory. In his mind, Matt looks a lot younger than he does right now, even if it wasn't so long ago. It feels like a lifetime away.

"And you wouldn't say a word, or even move a muscle," Matt snorts. "For a second I thought you'd finally become a robot, Golden Boy."

Shiro chuckles at the idea. He'd been far from a Golden Boy —even before he was possibly a living weapon—, and even if Matt knows that now, he seems to get some weird satisfaction in reminding him of his silly reputation at the Garrison. 

"Where you scared?" Matt asks.

"Of things going wrong the way they did? Not really," Shiro says, feeling his own voice get sadder. "I was mostly worried that I'd let everyone down, manage to screw things up somehow." It's easier to admit than he expected, that kind of fear and weakness. He's not sure he could ever say it in front of anyone else, but Matt had been on the same boat as him, literally and figuratively. He doesn't feel like someone he has to put on a mask for. 

"For what it's worth, you didn't screw up," Matt says, bumping his shoulder against him.

"Well, I didn't exactly manage to get us all back home safely either."

"Only  _you_ would find a way to make what the Galra did  _your_ fault somehow," Matt groans, rolling his eyes. 

Shiro sighs. Maybe  _that_ hadn't been his fault, but he can't shake off the feeling it was his responsibility somehow. Just like keeping the Paladins safe is. Just like he's probably failing to do, every second he stays here without knowing whether he's a ticking time bomb or not. 

"Have you seen the other?" He finally asks. 

Matt nods. 

Shiro doesn't dare ask.

"He's so much like you it's freaky," Matt goes on, despite the lack of prompting. "Like, really freaky. I'm starting to revisit my robot theory."

Shiro feels like his chest is a dark hole that is going to make him collapse onto himself. It must show on his face, because Matt tenses next to him. 

"I'm joking! Jesus, Shiro," he says quickly. "Of course I'm joking. Look, man, I'm the one that pulled you out of that Galra ship, remember? I know no one actually  _sent_ you here, and we got the Paladin armor, so we're good, okay? I know you're the real deal. And I'm sure the others do too, but following you around must have really affected them because now they are all going for the 'better safe than sorry' bullshit thing."

Shiro wants to believe him. More than anything, he wants to believe he is real, that he's still himself, that somehow he and the others will know that. And yet, he can't, because if it was so clear he wouldn't be locked in a room and treated like a threat, he wouldn't feel this gap inside him, he wouldn't feel the tension in the air every time he is questioned. The other one, the one that might still be the real Takashi Shirogane, must be just as much him as he is, or there would be no doubt. No matter what Matt says, or what Pidge says, or what anyone says. They can't know for sure. Haggar has used mind tricks on them before, tried to manipulate them, make them think they have the upper hand just to tear them apart when they let their guard down. He can't let that happen.

"You should go be with your sister," he says, ready to change the subject.

Matt lets out a chuckle that suggests he knows exactly what Shiro is doing. Luckily, he plays along.

"Oh, man, no way. It was fun for a few hours but then I remembered how serious she is about her work space. I was just trying to give some suggestions about her latest model and the next thing I know I'm getting kicked out and she decides only Hunk gets to be her lab partner."

Shiro recognizes some actual bitterness behind Matt's voice, but decides against mentioning it.

"Besides, I'm here to make sure you eat," Matt says, perking up. Shiro pulls an annoyed face. "Oh, don't give me that look. If you eat, I'll give you the other thing I brought you."

He raises his eyebrows curiously as Matt pulls out a holo-pad. 

"It's not exactly chess, but it comes close. A friend taught me how to play at the rebel base and turns out Katie had one laying around and had no idea what it was. I thought some strategy practice would do your bored ass some good. So, you in?"

 _Oh, thank goodness,_ is all Shiro can think, lit up at the perspective of a very welcome distraction. He smiles widely, grabbing the tray and putting it on his lap. He'll gladly compromise if it means he gets to do literally anything else, and Matt —damn be him— knows that. 

* * *

 

 

Matt is still sitting there on Shiro's floor when the door opens again. They are in the middle of their second game, which took almost three hours, because Matt claims the first round doesn't count because he was going easy on Shiro so that he'd learn. Shiro is more than happy to play again and beat him all over again, mostly because the past few hours are the first in three days where he's felt like a regular person again.

The door opens, though, like a dam, and reality comes crashing back in like a flood. The smile in Shiro's face wavers and dies as he looks at Keith.

Standing by the door, in full Paladin armor, Keith stands still, looking at them as if they were the strangest thing he's seen all day (which, knowing their lives, Shiro doubts). There's something about how put off Keith looks that makes Shiro's brow furrow. For a moment, he's worried. Then, it dawns on him that Keith probably expected to find him alone, like everyone else did. 

"Hey," Matt is the one that finally breaks the silence, sounding nonchalant as ever.

"Hey," Keith deadpans back, his eyes bouncing between them. "I need a word with him."

"Shiro?" Matt asks, giving him a look.  _Is that okay?_ He seems to be asking. All Shiro registers is his friend using his name when Keith didn't, maybe trying to reassuring him.  _I know who you are._

He nods. 

Quietly, Matt stands up. His face looks dark and serious for a moment, much like he did when he pulled Shiro out of the Galra ship. For a moment, Shiro has a feeling he'd break him out of here too, if it came to it. He'd probably have Pidge's help too. Not that he'd let them. 

"We'll finish this later, Shirogane," he says, tone playful but eyes serious. 

As Matt walks out, Shiro stands up to face Keith. From the moment he stepped into the Castle of Lions, Keith has been avoiding his eyes. This time is no different and it makes something inside him want to scream, reach out, make him raise his head and meet him. He missed Keith so much, thought he'd never see him again. Part of him doesn't really care if he's a clone or not, right now all he wants is his best friend to look at him like before. 

He waits in silence. He knows Keith enough not to push. 

"I'm sorry," is the first thing he says, and it catches Shiro off guard. His shoulders drop in confusion, looking at the kid who still won't look up. Everything about Keith's body language screams that he's getting ready for a fight, except his face. He looks sadder than he looks angry. "If you're...  _him..._ If you're really Shiro. I'm sorry we stopped looking for you, that we confused you with... if you are... I'm sorry we didn't save you..."

"I know," he says, voice soft. "For what is worth, I'm sorry I disappeared on you like that. Again."

Keith's shoulders tense at that, his fists clenched by his sides. 

"You didn't get a choice, again," Keith says, but his voice sounds so angry that Shiro is not sure if he believes his own words. He can only imagine how abandoned Keith must have felt, how lost, and pressured by his new responsibilities. "If you are you," he adds.

"I hope I am," Shiro offers, honestly. "I wish I could prove it. For what I hear... the other one is very much 'me' too. That's a lot more Takashi Shirogane than the universe is ready to handle," he offers the last beat as a joke, hoping with all his might that it'll make Keith break out of his shell, even if it is to groan at his sense of humor. He doesn't. 

"I should be able to tell," Keith says.

That's when it dawns on Shiro, that he's angry at  _himself,_ not at him.

"Maybe it would be easier if you actually  _looked_ at me," he offers.

Slowly, Keith raises his head. He looks as angry as Shiro expected, fierce eyes and furrowed brows. Alright, maybe  _some_ of the anger is directed at Shiro too. He's not sure why, but he was almost expecting some magical form of recognition. As if Keith would look at him and go 'oh, it's you, you are the real one'. He doesn't. Like everyone else, Keith looks confused. As if he's looking at a puzzle with too many pieces. 

"Keith," Shiro says, feeling as if he's finally able to breathe for the first time in weeks. He manages a smile. "I missed you."

"I've missed you too," Keith says. He sounds honest and warm, but all Shiro can do is think that the other him must have heard those words before too, gotten that warmer look of which he's being deprived right now. 

"I heard about Voltron," Shiro says, because if he doesn't do this now, he might not get a new chance. "I knew you could do it. I'm proud of you."

"I didn't want to do it!" Keith snaps back. "If you hadn't made me- I didn't  _chose_ this!"

"None of us did, but I knew you could do it," Shiro insists. "I know it's a big responsibility, I never meant to burden you-"

"Then you shouldn't have disappeared."

"I know. I'm sorry," he repeats. "I'm still proud of you. You're a good leader."

"You can't know that."

"You formed Voltron. Black accepted you. She wouldn't take someone she didn't consider worthy," he says, smiling, even if a small pool of bitterness — _worse: envy—_ twists inside his gut. 

Keith suddenly jumps, the way he does when he has a new idea (the kind that usually involves a crazy plan). 

"I have to talk to Allura," Keith says. "We'll talk again."

"I'm sure we will," Shiro nods, but can't help but feel a vague disappointment at the conversation ending so quickly. "Keith?" He calls before the other boy can leave. His friend stops, with his back turned towards him. He doesn't turn around, but all Shiro needs him to do is listen. "I know you will figure this out. And when you do... If I'm a clone... or a weapon... I know you'll do what  _needs_ to be done."

He knows what he's talking about. So does Keith, because he turns around, looking bewildered, bristled. 

"No," he says, dryly. 

"It might be the only choice."

"You don't get to do this," Keith's voice shakes angrily, even if each word is strong and sharp. "I'm still a little busy with the  _last_ thing you asked of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but holy crap this chapter is LONG. Don't think the others will be, except maybe the last one. 
> 
> Always love reading your comments! Especially since I'm relatively new to this characterizations. So let me know what you think of it!


	4. One More Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may have found a way to get answers. Shiro is not entirely sure he wants them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Season 4 is officially out and this isn't finished but I still like this plot line so here have another chapter! Will hopefully finish this soon after that impromptu hiatus. Thanks to everyone who waited!

 

 

   


> _And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair._  
>  _Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there._

There's people yelling and arguing around him, but Shiro pays no mind to them. He's too busy, trying to wrap his mind around the existence of his other self. He knew of him, he'd seen him on the ship's screens, he'd imagined him, but nothing would prepare him for this. Looking at himself, face to face, unable to recognize himself in those eyes and yet completely aware of what must have been going on the other one's head. They'd both frozen with identical expressions. Poker face. Shiro'd made good money in the Garrison by having an unreadable poker face. And yet, right now, in the other Shiro's eyes, he can see the exact same train wreck of emotions twisting inside him: fear, anger, anxiety, realization of just how deeply he'd been violated.

He felt himself struggle slightly with the cuffs around his wrists, which were not helping at making him feel less like a trapped injured animal. A glimpse confirmed his other self wasn't happy about it either. Great. One more thing in common.

"You want to take the to the Black Lion?!" Allura's voice is loud and angry beneath the surface. Enough to make them both snap out of it and look her way. 

"It's the only way to know," Keith says, and he sounds like he's said it several times already.

"Wasn't the whole point of keeping them locked  _not_ letting them steal the lions?" Lance asks, arching an eyebrow. Something about his tone catches Shiro's attention. He sounds like he's working very hard to keep his emotions at bay, sound calm. 

"Yes," Keith nods, "but we can't keep them locked like this forever. Besides, one of them already tried. We should give the other one a chance."

Shiro turns to look at the other version of him. Pain flashes through his eyes, he wonders if it's evident for the others, as it is to him. He tries to picture it, sitting on Black's cockpit, grabbing the handle, waiting, holding his breath... only for the lion to stay silent, cold around him. The idea alone makes his skin crawl uneasily. 

"Yeah, but Black bonded with you already," Pidge points out, frowning. "Maybe she just won't take her old pilot back."

"Like with Blue and me," Lance nods in agreement. 

"It's still the best shot we've got," Keith insists.

"Uh, no. We could still wait for Coran's physical exams," Hunk points out, tense. 

"That could take days!" Keith snaps. 

"If we want to be throughout, yes," Coran nods. 

"We don't have that much time. Black will know. Don't you think your lions would recognize you?" Keith asks. 

They all nod, tensely. Only Lance looks upset and Shiro makes a mental note to talk to him later, once they figure this out, if he's able to. 

"I'm good with that."

They all jump. Shiro included. Hearing his own voice like that, unexpected and  _wrong_ like it does in recordings, it returns every bit of tension he'd tried to fight back. He looks at the other one, but for once his eyes are set on Keith, who seems able to meet his gaze. 

"I may not be able to fly Black," the other one goes on, "but she led you to find me. She saved my life. I trust her."

Oh.

_Oh._

It's a miracle his knees don't give up. 

He thinks back to the Galra ship, being starved and alone and terrified. No one came for him. He could have died, and Black didn't even react. That's not right. They bonded. He remembers it. They bonded, right before- Oh god. He's not real. He is not him. 

 He's mid way through an existencial crisis when the castle shakes hard enough to make them all lose their balance. Shiro's knees finally give up and he hits the floor, forcing himself to get out of his head and focus on what's going on. 

"What was that?!" Lance asks, voice a little too tight. 

"We are under attack!" Coran says, tumbling over towards the controls as the Castle of Lions shakes again. 

Shiro's mind makes a quick plan to counteract the attack but before he can talk it's Keith who takes over control.

"Coran, take the Shiros to their rooms, lock them up until this is done. Everyone else, go to your lions."

"What?" Both of them snap at the same time. 

"We can help!" The other one says, voice tense, almost angry. "You need all the hands you can get in this one."

The castle shakes again. 

"They are trying to break through the shield."

"We'd be more useful to you here," Shiro has to agree, because the idea of sitting on his hands while everyone else is risking their lives is nerve wrecking. 

"You would be a liability," Keith snaps, eyes directed at him, sharp and furious. It suddenly becomes clear to Shiro that Keith is angry at  _him_ specifically.

Of course. What are the odds that they'd be tracked just after he arrived? 

His stomach twists

"I've been in the bridge in missions before," the other Shiro pushes. "Keith, you know you need all the help you can get with this. We don't even know what we are dealing with. This could be Lotor or-"

"I already made up my mind," Keith cuts him off. "We are wasting time."

"Uh, lads, it seems like the Castle's security systems may have been breached."

_Shit._

"Maybe he has a point," Hunk says, brow furrowed tensely. "I- I mean... If they are bringing the fight to the castle, it can't hurt having a Shiro around or..." 

Keith visibly flinches at that, his resolve wavering. Every other emotion and doubt drips out of him in that moment, at the sight of his friend —who he put in this position— at such a loss. At least one thing inside his chest settles without a single doubt: he won't let that happen. 

"You are the Black Paladin now, Keith," he says, voice even and loud, almost contradicting his statement. "It's your call."

Keith sends him a look that he can't quite place. Halfway between irritated and thankful. 

"Coran," Keith turns. The man nods, almost cheerful, as he approaches them. "Now, lads, let's get you out of the way."

* * *

 In retrospective, Shiro really shouldn't have been surprised that things went south as quickly as they did, but even with his luck he had not expected the situation to get much worse. And yet, it did. 

They were only half way through his cell —which everyone insists on calling a  _room_  as if he'd been really given a choice— when they are intercepted. A tall Galra woman stands in their way. She isn't entirely Galra, as far as Shiro can tell, but she certainly isn't any less blood thirsty.

"Looks like I get two for the price of one," she grins, raising her weapon towards them. Shiro hears it load and reacts on instinct.

"Coran, watch out!" Both Shiros react at the same time, pushing the man back around the corner they'd just doubled. The strength of both combined is clearly more than they had aimed for, and the Altean ends up rolling down the floor with a huff. A quick, "sorry," comes out of both of them at the same time, making them share an annoyed look. They are soon interrupted by another set of lasers being thrown their way. "Stay here," they order and run into action. 

Shiro makes a quick mental note that this must be one of the generals Lance mentioned before —Zethrid, most likely—, but other than that he has little time to think. He let's his body go in automatic mode. He's fought opponents this big before in the arena, as far as he can remember. It was their size that worked in his favor. Right now, though, his hands are bound in front of him and his mobility impaired by the size of the hallways. It could be worse, he'll make do. 

Running full speed, he kicks the wall nearest to him to propel himself up in the air and deliver a two handed blow. Before he can even touch Zethrid, though, something else impacts his side and sends him rolling down the floor. Disoriented, he has barely enough time to register it was his other self he crashed into. 

"What the-" a big purple fist cuts them off, sending them both flying backwards. The force of the impact makes every bone in his body hurt, and he's pretty sure he'll be nursing a headache for a week. Before he can keep complaining, a hand wraps around his throat and lifts him off the ground. He gasps, desperately choking for air. Zethrid laughs, loud and dark, making his bones rattle with the sound of her voice. 

"Two Champions for the price of one," she laughs. "This is too easy."

From the corner of his eye, Shiro can see the other one struggling as well.

_He's being chocked, life draining out of him and no matter how much he kicks or sinks his nails on the alien's arm, there's no getting out of his solid grip. The edges of his vision are starting to darken and his body is struggling and trashing desperately in a last desperate attempt to survive. That's when he sees himself, far away, in the arena's screens. He can't see from where he is being held, but the camera is just at the right angle... he sees the gladiator's sword dangling close. Maybe close enough that he can grab it and-_   


The memory slips from under him as his mind grows hazier and more desperate for air. Still, shocked and dazed, he realizes where the memory comes from. From where he is, he realizes there's a stupidly simple way out for them. 

He lights his hand up. It hadn't occur to him to use it, knowing the cuffs would not break under the heat, but he doesn't need his arms free right now. He just needs to burn. 

The other seems to catch up with his train of thought quickly enough to light his own arm up —which is incredibly weird—. At the same time, they press their hands against the Galra's arms. The smell of burnt fur stenches his nose, followed quickly by the smell of burning meat. 

Zethrid reacts too late, letting go of them with a pained scream, scrambling backwards. Both Shiros fall to the ground, gasping. Both struggle to get on their feet as quickly as possible, they know they have only one chance at this. 

"Go high," Shiro says, voice hoarse and pained. The other nods. They charge forward. 

Shiro kicks at Zethrid's legs while the other jumps on her back and uses his hand to crack her weapon in two. Zethrid tries to get rid of both of them, but loses her balance and stumbles to her knees. No words needed, both Shiros jump and land their elbows on her, aiming for the face. The blow is not as clean as it would've been with only one person attacking, but it's powerful enough to knock her down. Momentarily. 

"We need to move," Shiro says, rushing back towards Coran. "The others need to know the Castle has been breached."

"I'm guessing they already noticed," the other one offers, glaring darkly. 

Shiro's stomach turns at the thought. His team needs him. 

All three of them rush forward across the hallways. Shiro is busy trying to find the fastest way to the hangar when a hand grabs his arm and forces him to a stop. 

"This is your room number one."

"What?!" Shiro snaps. Okay, he agreed to this before, but if he'd known they would be facing a frontal attack here, he would have insisted to fight. "No, they need-"

"No time for arguing!" Coran pushes him into the room, with a strength only equiparable to Allura's. Shiro barely manages to make a proper landing before the door closes.

"Do not fret, Number One! I will just take Number One to his own chambers and then we will have this dealt with!" Coran says from the other side of the metal room, his tone a little too up-beat, forced to sound positive. 

"Coran, wait! No! Let me help!" Shiro yells, throwing himself against the door, feeling desperation crawl upon him. He doesn't even get to touch the door's surface. The protective shield does it's damn job and keeps him trapped. 

Shiro curses, falling to his knees. 

The room is silent and empty and he is powerless while his friends risk their lives. 

  


  



End file.
